


Blow Out All the Candles (You're Too Old to be So Shy)

by arctichalsey



Series: Just a Young Heart, Confusing My Mind [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BUT IT'S RECOMMENDED, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Confused Luke, Confused Michael, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, POV Michael Clifford, Sad Luke, Sad Michael, YOU DON'T NEED TO READ PART 1, but it's third person js, i just realised he's still in this omg, i typed "luke what do you expect" i need help, like what do you expect, vv briefly though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:38:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arctichalsey/pseuds/arctichalsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just want to go to bed," Michael complained in a low voice, not moving, not quite sure if he'd prefer being away or with Luke at the moment. It was just too close, too much, all at once, and he was going to die. </p><p>Luke hummed, "Then we'll go to bed."</p><p>He said it easily, the words smoothly slipping through his teeth like it was the most normal and totally heterosexual thing to do in the world. Just two bros, going to sleep and cuddle in the same bed. </p><p>Michael's heart dropped when he remembered that that was all it was. Just best friends. </p><p>Then again, he wasn't too close to finding out whether or not he wanted it to be anything more, or anything less.</p><p> </p><p>(or; michael's at least a little gay - he had to be)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow Out All the Candles (You're Too Old to be So Shy)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS PART TWO AND IT CAN BE READ AS A STAND - ALONE. THAT'S THE POINT SO I'M SORRY IF IT DOESN'T HAVE //TOO MUCH// RELATION TO PART 1, BUT I REALLY TRIED SO ((^:  
> comments and kudos really really appreciated!!

"Michael? _Mike._ Michael. _Gordon-"_

 _"What?"_ Michael hissed, lifting his head from its place on the cool wood of the kitchen table. Calum smiled, that shit-eating grin of his that made Michael want to both punch him and pinch his cheeks. 

However, he didn't have the energy to do _either_ that morning. He had woken up with a running nose and a scratch in his throat, and he all but swiftly killed himself in the shower when the water beating on his back ached worse than a dead arm from Ashton whenever he'd catch you eating _his_ Vegemite.

Which was bullshit - they all _shared_ a house; no one could just write their name on food labels and expect that boundary to be respected.

Calum shoved at Michael's shoulder, and the older boy grumpily reciprocated with a growly _"What the fuck do you want?"_ to which Calum kept up that _stupid_ smile and shrugged.

"Nothing. Unless, like, _you_ wanna ask me something."

"Dear _God_. You got someone pregnant."

Calum's smile was wiped almost immediately and was replaced with a gross snarked-out grimace, as he cringed and shoved Michael's shoulder again, much to his chagrin. _"No!_ But, I did do the _act_ that would lead to pregnancy. Wait, what the fuck, that sounds gross, let me reitera-"

Michael groaned. "Calum, I don't wanna hear your gross fuckin' pillow talk. Leave me alone."

 _"_ _Sexcapades_ _,_ Michael, I told you-"

"I'm not using your gross fucking lingo, either. Literally _no one_ says _sexcapades_ _."_

"Duh, that's why it's _my_ 'gross fucking lingo'-"

"It's too damn early to hear you two argue," Michael and Calum both fell silent at that snap as they glanced up to see Luke step into the kitchen, covering his mouth with one hand as he yawned. His hair was still messy and he had neglected to do much about his appearance at all, really, because he left his torso and shoulders bare and didn't care that his sweat pants had the rattiest-looking tear at one knee.

Calum scoffed, "Shut up, Luke."

"Hey," both Michael and Luke protested at once, Michael because he was the only one allowed to say that, Luke because, well, he was a whiner, and that's what made him _Luke._

"Cal, don't mess with the lovers this early," Ashton was now making his own sun-shiney appearance, all ripped muscle-tee and tight blue jeans that hardly matched the upbeat smile and laugh he let ring through the kitchen. Michael groaned in defeat, because everyone seemed to be in a good mood and _not sick,_ and that just irritated him more and made his head hurt even _more_ if that were possible.

Luke, of course, being the observant and annoying asshole he was, immediately took notice of how Michael's pallor was paler (than usual, of course, he was a literal pot of expired glue and he knew it, took pride in it, really) and how, despite the forecasts calling for a warmer-than-usual day in London, he was wearing his _sick sweater_ and skinny jeans. 

So, in continuation of being and _annoying_ _asshole_ _,_ he plopped himself down in the seat next to Michael, wincing with the force (Michael nearly made fun of him for his bony ass but remembered he had the same) and wrapping a long, wiry, and noticeably _bare_ arm around Michael's shoulders.

Michael whined wordlessly because he didn't want to really make sense of the way his stomach flipped and God damn it, he was _sick,_ he didn't have to deal with this.

"Shut up," he opted for _that,_ instead, because it was easier than turning around and locking eyes with Luke, anyways.

"Didn't even say anything," Luke sighed into Michael's ear, which sent goosebumps crawling over Michael's skin. He felt feverish, which was worse than his current situation, of a half naked Luke Hemmings being _this_ close when he was _this_ irritable and just _this_ close to snapping and, decidedly, passing out, right there, in the middle of his own damn kitchen.

(It was all four of their's, but, hey, Michael wasn't in too good of a mood, so if he decided the kitchen with the blender and the food processer and the fucking _whisk_ were his, then so be it.)

Calum and Ashton got set to making a full breakfast, like the stupid, athletic and responsible jerks they were, and the smell of eggs and bacon made Michael slightly sick. It didn't help that Calum was telling Ashton about his _sexcapade_ either.

Calum and his _gross lingo._

Giving in, Michael turned into Luke's shoulder and sighed miserably. Luke rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, and said, "D'you got a fever, or something?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know, I just feel icky." And he did, like he was too hot and too cold at the same time and he was breaking a sweat despite shaking in his sweater.

Ashton suddenly turned to them and clapped, with those unnecessarily big hands that made the clap sound more like thunder in the kitchen. Michael wanted to punch him because he was the one who had said the house was a good pick because of its good acoustics everywhere, and he was now _clapping_ and abusing the acoustics. And Michael's ears.

"Alright, guys, we're gonna be tourists today," and if Michael didn't want to die at that sentence, "we're gonna go to King's Cross, and then to the science museum..."

Luke laughed and sympathetically pressed his mouth to Michael's temple.

And if Michael didn't want to die, or maybe punch himself, because his stomach flipped again, and he _knew_ he couldn't blame it on being ill, which was really the worst.

 

* * *

 

A lot could change in two years, Michael knew.

He knew that from the day Luke had apologised until that very morning, and until the end of time, probably, he and Luke had been best friends. Best friends who insulted each other (now without real fire behind their words), best friends who had each other's back in any situation, just plain old Luke and Michael, the dynamic power duo and just, best _friends._

Having to wait for his phone to come back to life as he laid in bed was something that wasn't too nice. It left him to ponder over his own thoughts, which dialed back and forth between stupid things he'd converse about with Luke sometime in the next twenty-four hours and deep, infinite thoughts about the universe they lived in and just improbable things that made him feel small, insignificant, and panicked. 

But now, however, it was none of those. Michael was curled up onto his side, still in his _sick sweater_ and trading out those suffocating skinnies for the softest pair of sleeping pants he'd own. Which, coincidentally, his mother had given him, which were blue with clouds on it and the blue was just a shade away from matching Luke's eyes.

_Luke._

Michael kept his eyes on his phone, still not flashing that it was charged enough to turn on. He hated being left to his own sometimes, especially when he'd began questioning himself.

He just hoped it wouldn't lead to a spiraling downfall of an existential crisis _this_ time. 

Michael just didn't know what had _changed._ One day, he was calling Luke stupid with an infectious giggle, shoving the younger boy into a headlock that would lead to an extensive wrestling battle that left both boys with warm cheeks from the effort and laughter hanging low in the air. Then, one day, Michael's cheeks weren't warm from _just_ wrestling, and he forfeited _without_ laughing. 

Maybe he was just _crazy._ Because all he could think about for a week after was Luke, one leg hitched over both of Michael's, the other sprawled to the side as he tried to get Michael's arm behind his head, and his face was just _too close_ to Michael's own, and Michael's stomach _flipped_ _,_ and it was just really the _worst._

 His cheeks were getting warm thinking about it, his head feeling close to exploding and _had it been a full six hours since he'd taken the fever medicine._ He wanted nothing but to lay there and _die,_ maybe, because Luke was the _worst,_ and he was confused on whether to punch the boy or _kiss_ him instead.

Really, the _worst._

Michael snorted at himself into his pillow, which resulted in his throat protesting by aching and feeling dry and gross. He wanted to groan, and then thought better of it. If he strained his throat, he would completely blow out his voice, and they had a _show_ in just under a week. If he couldn't solo anything, Ashton would rip out his throat. Ironic, but true.

Pushing himself off the bed, he decided to drown himself in water and try to get rid of this stupid bug before the show, because being sick on stage wasn't at all fun. He still remembered that, minutes after the show ended sometime last month, Luke had sprinted backstage to retch and throw up into a trash can and Michael was there to laugh, but also there to hold him up and go into the restricted bathrooms meant only for those playing the main show.

The house wasn't quiet, which was strangely comforting to Michael as he walked to cross the den into the kitchen. On the couch, Calum and Luke were playing FIFA, where Calum was, funnily enough, getting totally creamed. He shoved Calum's head forward as he walked past, which made the younger boy groan as the action got Luke a point.

"Fuck you, Michael." 

Michael laughed and retreated to the kitchen to find one of those plastic bottles that Ashton had said were for his _protein shakes,_ and his protein shakes _only._

"You feeling okay?" Michael jumped, startled, as Luke's breath fanned over the exposed nape of his neck, and nodded nervously as he turned on the faucet to fill the bottle.

"Yeah. Just a bug, I think," Michael inwardly cringed at how thick and nasally his voice sounded, and decided that he _really_ needed to get rid of this cold before Ashton punched him for sounding so raspy and gross on stage. 

"That's good," Luke hummed, wrapping his arms around Michael's midsection and resting his head against the older boy's back. The action was strangely intimate, at least it _felt_ like it was, and Michael's stomach flipped (he nearly punched _himself_ ) and he stiffened up.

"Shit," he cursed, as the water flowed over the top of the bottle and onto his hands, wetting his sleeves and maybe not pushing them up was a bad idea. He wanted to sulk, but Luke was quick to turn off the water and close the bottle for him, which felt _really_ domestic and Michael swore that he would actually punch Luke in the next two seconds, if not _kiss_ him. 

"Idiot," Luke grumbled, but pulled Michael by the waist to leave the kitchen, refusing to lose contact with him. Michael knew he was actually going to have a heart attack if Luke kept this up, so he opted to hold his hand instead. Which wasn't too much better, because he was beginning to feel that familiar too-hot-but-also-too-cold feeling crawling against his skin, which, like the stomach flips and head rushes, had _nothing_ to do with his cold. 

"I just want to go to bed," Michael complained in a low voice, not moving, not quite sure if he'd prefer being away or with Luke at the moment. It was just too _close,_ too _much,_ all at once, and he was going to _die._

Luke hummed, "Then we'll go to bed."

He said it easily, the words smoothly slipping through his teeth like it was the most _normal_ and _totally heterosexual_ thing to do in the world. Just two bros, going to sleep and cuddle in the same bed. 

Michael's heart dropped when he remembered that that was all it _was._ Just best _friends._

Then again, he wasn't too close to finding out whether or not he wanted it to be anything more, or anything less.

"What do you mean?" Michael's voice fucking _broke,_ like he was an awkward prepubescent _kid_ again, and he cringed into oblivion inwardly, and coughed, playing it off like it was just his cold acting up again, when in reality he just felt fireworks under his skin wherever it met Luke's. He couldn't decide whether that was good or not.

Luke turned to him and looked at him with a soft smile. "Nothin'. You should get some rest, though," and, _horribly,_ he let go of Michael's hand, walking back into the den and Michael heard him challenge Calum to a rematch as he threw himself back onto the couch.

And Michael stood there for a solid three minutes, bare feet cold on the linoleum tiles.

The fireworks under his skin didn't fade until he had safely made it back into his bed, head stubbornly shoved under the comforter; and even then, they still resided as a dull hum that resounded stronger than ever - _LukeLukeLuke_ _._

 

* * *

 

Michael was definitely at least a _little_ gay.

He had to be, right?

At least, that's what he thought, sitting rather uncomfortably on the steps of the pool, awkwardly enough in the three feet section as Luke and Ashton had a splashing and shoving a plastic beach ball in each other's face fight in the deeper end. 

Michael wasn't paying any mind to the actual banter, rather, focusing a bit too closely on the wide, smooth expanse of Luke's back as he twisted back and forward in the water. Michael breathed deeply through his nose because, ever since the encounter he'd had with Luke in the kitchen a week ago, he was just so _hyper aware_ of everything the boy did. 

Right now, it was watching in some sort of perverted satisfaction as he tried to get out of the pool from the edge and Ashton grabbed his foot, making him twist around and - _fuck,_ it should've been _illegal_ for Luke to just look _that_ good soaked with his hair slicked across his forehead and his elbows scraped up from his escape attempt. The laugh that left his chest was better than anything Michael had _ever_ heard, he decided, and the way his hair looked when Luke shoved it carelessly out of his eyes was the best thing he had ever seen.

He quickly took that back, though, because Ashton grabbed the waist of Luke's swimming trunks and yanked downwards to get Luke into the pool, and, while every member of the band has seen each other very nude _many_ times, this ... this was _different._

Seeing his dick was one thing, seeing Luke's hips arched up and just barely escaping flashing the entire band was _totally different._

Michael's mouth went dry as he gaped at how utterly _hot_ he found Luke's slim hips to be, they were bony and jutting out just a bit much but it was the fact that they were on _Luke's_ body that made it all the more exciting. It just fit, Luke had bony hips and skinny legs but fuck, if that lankiness wasn't _very_ appreciated on Michael's end.

His fantasizing was rudely interrupted, however, when Luke smiled in his direction innocently, before disappearing under the water to swim towards him, reemerging to spit water _right_ in Michael's face. 

Michael gasped, and, while his eyes were closed and he tried to scrub the chlorine out of them, Luke pulled a total _Ashton_ and grabbed Michael's foot to yank him in. Michael nearly snorted down a gallon of the pool water and shoved himself up indignantly, blowing water out of his nostrils and narrowing his eyes at Luke menacingly.

 _"Thirty seconds,_ jack ass. That's all you have to get to the other end before I _drown you."_

Michael only counted to seven before diving in after him.

 

* * *

 

"You fucking asshole, I literally _just_ got rid of a cold two days ago. If I get sick again, I swear to God, your ass is _mine."_

"Kinky."

 

* * *

 

It was late, Michael knew that much, and he was only half asleep when Luke had crawled into his bed.

He was startled, at first, because he'd hardly heard Luke come in. He had a habit of leaving his door ajar, mainly to let just a bit of the hallway light in, so he figured that's why he was so quiet.

"Luke?" Michael whispered, and Luke shushed him sloppily, and Michael's brain finally registered the strong, almost overpowering smell of liquor clinging to his breath, clothes, _hair,_ and it shadowed him, and made Michael feel queasy in the worst way.

"J-jus' wanted ... to be _close,_ to you," Luke mumbled, tripping over his words, and Michael was _definitely_ gonna have a long talk with Calum about taking Luke out to get _this_ drunk. 

Michael let Luke sling his leg over Michael's hips, clinging to his side, and Michael sighed, pulling an arm around Luke's waist and trying to ignore the heat growing against his cheeks and felt Luke trying to get even _closer,_ pushing his hips against Michael's thigh and there was no way Luke was being completely _innocent_ when he sighed Michael's name and pushed himself harder against Michael's thigh.

"L-Luke," Michael stammered, pulling away, just a bit. Luke just pulled closer _again,_ and while it was really, _really_ nice, it was just a bit _too_ nice, and - yeah, Michael's definitely at least a _little_ gay. 

"Mikey..." Luke grunted, pushing even closer (if that were even possible) and whimpering as his hips awkwardly rolled against Michael's thigh. He sighed, doing it again, and then whispering, "Fuck, you're hot."

Luke pulled himself up to shove his leg in between Michael's thighs, giving the older boy a hot, dark look that made his heart skip. Michael's breath caught in his throat, his jaw dropped just the tiniest bit, and suddenly, it was all just _too much._

Michael panicked then, pushing himself up and startling Luke. He felt itchy all over, his pants were too fucking tight and all that he had on his mind was _Luke,_ and he didn't know whether that was good or bad.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked softly, sounding dejected, and Michael swallowed the plea and agreement to continue down his throat, and it bubbled in his chest as he rubbed his palm over his face.

"W-what were you doing?" 

Luke paused for a beat, and then smiled drunkenly, big and boyish and Michael wanted to _punch_ the look off of his face. Because that wasn't a look that Luke should've gotten, the boy wasn't freaking out like Michael was and that wasn't _fair._ "Nothing."

" _Luke-"_

"G'night, Mikey," Luke said with a strange sense of finality, before turning over and huddling himself into one side of the bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and creating a barrier that felt so much more than _physical_ between him and Michael.

And Michael thought that that was just ... the worst.

 

* * *

 

Luke wasn't there in the morning.

Michael's opinion on _the worst_ changed the second he woke up to an empty bed.

 

* * *

 

"Are you gay?"

The question hit Michael like a freight train, and he stared at Calum blankly the second the words left his mouth. He wasn't even sure _himself,_ and he was pretty sure that he didn't really give off that kinda vibe. His throat was dry and he stared harshly down at his cereal, not really quite knowing how he was supposed to answer.

"I..." Michael trailed off. "I'm ..."

Calum sighed through his nose, a sigh Michael read as _you're an idiot,_ and replaced the sigh with a deep breath. "Let me rephrase. Are you gay for _Luke?"_

And that just clicked way better than a generalization that he was just attracted to _guys only._ He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted Luke, and that was a _sick_ realisation to come to. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and he opened his mouth, speechless for the first time he'd ever even spoken to Calum.

"I'm..." he trailed off once more, voice breaking because he was just _so confused_ and _so hurt_ that Luke had left in the morning, because Luke had _never_ done that before. When they fell asleep together, Luke always made sure that they woke up together, too, because he knew Michael _hated_ waking up to no one when there was _someone_ there the night before.

"Mikey, no, don't cry, I'm sorry," Calum rushed, leaning over the side of the table to brush away at Michael's cheek and, wait, Michael was _crying?_ He hadn't done _that,_ since like, Year 10, which was over two years ago. 

He really didn't mean to cry, it just happened when he thought of that morning.

"He wasn't there, this morning," Michael muttered, pushing Calum's hand away coldly and wiping at his face himself. "We fell asleep together and he wasn't there when I woke up. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is." His voice cracked again and he shook his head. "I'm just being stupid, I'm sorry, Calum."

Calum sighed, and shook his head sympathetically. "You're _not_ stupid. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to, just know I'm here. And I don't care what you are, gay, straight, anything else. Neither will Ashton, or ... or Luke," he said the name after a beat of hesitation, and Michael nodded with a deep breath.

"You're my best friend. I love you." Michael felt like he didn't say it _nearly_ enough.

Calum smiled sheepishly. "No homo."

"Fuck you, Hood.

 

* * *

  
  
Luke wasn't worth crying over.

At least, that's what Michael told himself as he huddled under the mountain of blankets and pillows he'd built for himself in Calum's bed. His own room and own bed hurt too much to look at, and that was just _stupid._ Boys were stupid. Everything was stupid right now and he just wanted to be dead to the world for a few hours.

He at least had the safety of knowing he was alone in the house. He hadn't seen Luke since the fiasco that had happened last night.

Well, Michael wanted to _force_ himself to _think_ it was a fiasco - it was easier to do that rather than live with the fact that his best friend that he was kind of, sort of, _not really but also not really not_ in love with got him hard, called him hot, and forced him into an anxiety attack all in one sitting.

Michael wanted to throw up, but Calum's bed sheets were too nice.

He heard the door open, and someone step in, and he wanted to punch whoever was interrupting his existential crisis time, but if it were Calum, then he'd technically have no right. What with being in _his_ bed and all.

"If it's Calum, okay. If it's Ashton, please fuck off." His words were muffled into Calum's down-filled comforter. It was a nice comforter, smelled like Calum too. He'd upgraded to actual cologne compared to the shitty three-dollar body spray that smelled like a twelve-year-old boy's bathroom and wardrobe.

"What if it's Luke?" A soft voice asked, and Michael nearly screamed, because he really wasn't expecting _that._

He sat up immediately, dark hair wild and hanging in his eyes, as he whipped around to face a nervous-looking Luke, his hands behind his back and his feet doing _the thing_ where he crossed one over the other and pretended like he didn't know it just was the _cutest_ thing in the entire world.

"Oh," Michael breathed softly. "Hey. Haven't seen you all day."

Luke coughed. "Michael, I don't want to ... I don't wanna, uh, beat around the bush. Can I ... enter your blanket fortress?" Despite the air being heavy with tension, both Luke's and Michael's lips quirked upwards with the ghost of a smile.

Michael nodded, scooting over to one side and pushing the blankets and pillows back. Luke sat down next to him, making sure to keep a foot of space between them, but it might as well have been a hundred miles, because Michael had never felt farther from Luke than he had in that moment.

"Mike," Luke started, clearing his throat again, and Michael knew he was just trying to alleviate the thick tension, but if anything, that attempt just made it _worse._ "I just ... I'm sorry about last night, and I'm sorry I wasn't there in the morning. I just, I was really drunk, and it was stupid on my part for thinking that any part of that was okay."

"Oh," Michael repeated, and he felt like an _idiot._ Like an idiot that had hope Luke felt the same, even though he _had_ no hope to begin with, the disappointment still settled itself in, nailed itself into his chest and weighed him down like a ton of bricks. The pressure growing in his chest, the _too much_ feeling was back in the _worst_ way, and it made his throat close up, which meant he was going to _cry._

_Don't cry over Luke, don't cry over Luke, don't cry over Luke._

"Mikey?" Luke asked gently, and his palm came to Michael's face. Michael flinched like he'd been touched with the lit end of a cigarette, and he still felt the pressure of Luke's hand on his face like the _scar_ of a burn. 

"I don't know what changed," Michael whispered, because he knew that if he spoke any louder he would begin to _sob,_ and he wouldn't be able to _breathe_ when he would, and Luke's seen him that weak only once; he didn't need to see it again.

"No, fuck, Michael, nothing's changed!" Luke sounded panicked now, he grabbed at Michael's hands and laced their fingers together gently, despite the urgency in his words. Gentle, that was _Luke,_ so Luke, soft and pliant and everything Michael _loved_ about him and everything he knew he always would.

Michael _did_ sob then, and he couldn't hide it behind his hand because he knew that, if he pulled his hand away, he may never get the chance to hold Luke's again. The possibility of that outcome hurt more than the lack of air in his lungs. 

"Everything has, Luke," Michael shook his head, keeping his eyes down, and not meeting Luke's. Because then he'd lie to make Luke happy, and he couldn't _do_ that anymore. He couldn't hide. "One day I woke up and _ruined_ everything, because I _noticed._ I noticed your eyes, and your voice, and _you,_ and I saw you differently, and now I _can't,_ and I'm _sorry."_

"Oh, Mikey," Luke sounded close to tears, now, too, and so Michael stole a glance upwards. Luke's eyes were brimming with unshed tears, his cheeks flushed for the worst reason and he just looked so _hurt_ and _broken_ and Michael wished he hadn't fucked anything up. "Michael, I'm sorry, but _I love you."_

And those three words have never sounded so bad.

"But not the way that I love you," Michael mumbled bitterly. "I can't look at you anymore without wanting to kiss you, or something, and I just _can't do it_ Luke. It'll take me a while, yeah, but I'll get over it-"

Luke laughed suddenly, and it felt out of place to their situation. Michael glanced up in surprise. Luke was smiling suddenly, all-too happy looking for the tears streaming down his cheeks, but he looked _genuinely_ happy, and if Michael had half a mind to not find that _beautiful,_ he'd be angry.

But then Luke was letting go of his hands in favour of pushing one hand into the soft tufts of hair at the back of Michael's head, the other holding his jaw as he brought him close and _kissed him._

Michael gasped, because he didn't really _understand,_ but then it all _clicked._ Luke loved him. _Loved-_ loved. And he was _kissing_ him, _fuck._

The older boy whined then, grabbing at Luke's shirt and pulling him closer, moving his mouth against Luke's with a soft moan because it was all just too _good_ to be true, it was all just _amazing_ and Michael was all just _so in love._

"God, I love you," Michael sniffed, pushing his nose against Luke's because he couldn't do much of any other romantic gesture. All that was in his mind was _LukeLukeLuke,_ a hell of a lot louder than it was just a week ago. It was less of a whisper and more of a scream, now, though he suppose it always was, he was always just intent on keeping it _quiet,_ too scared of the truth. But he didn't fear anything now. He _loved_ Luke, and that was _that._

Luke smiled, soft and sweet, and whispered an, "I love you _more."_ And Michael would've taken the bait and challenged Luke, because that was just their dynamic, but Luke was quick to press his lips to Michael's again in a searing kiss that must've lasted forever.

Michael didn't _really_ have any control over what he was doing, just knew that Luke's hands in his hair and his fingers pressing into Luke's hips and Luke's _tongue in his fucking mouth_ was just crossing the line of _too much._ Before he knew what he _was_ doing, Luke was pressed back against the bed, his legs locked tight against Michael's hips in an effort to just keep them _close._

"Been wanting this with you forever," Luke grunted, raking his hands down Michael's clothed back and Michael groaned, low and raspy, and the sound made Luke push his hips up and whimper. 

"Yeah?" Michael's voice was half teasing, and half _breathless_ because the easy grind Luke had against him shouldn't have felt _that_ good but, c'mon, it was _Luke_ they were talking about. He moaned into Luke's neck, and the blonde tipped his head back to let Michael kiss against it, lick across his collar bone and suck a mark into the pale skin because he just couldn't resist.

Luke moaned, tugging on Michael's hair and pushing against him harder, eliciting a soft gasp and Michael had to actually close his eyes and try not to focus too much on Luke, fucked-out and breathless, or he might actually come in his jeans like a fifteen-year-old version of him who'd just gotten his hand up a girl's skirt for the first time.

"Michael, _harder-"_

"Mike, you still in - oh my _fucking_ God, you _assholes!"_

Michael jumped off Luke, hitting his thigh against the window sill next to Calum's bed and he groaned, half in pain, half in disappointment, because all he needed was, like, _five more minutes_ and Luke would've been completely _done_ under him.

That sent another roll of heat over him, but he had to ignore it, because Calum was screaming his damn head off.

"-and have neither of you the _fucking decency_ to do this shit in one of _your own_ beds! Ashton, back me up!" Calum shoved Ashton's shoulder, but the oldest boy was laughing too hard to answer. "Ten more fucking minutes and I would've come home to Luke getting _fucked,_ in _my_ bed. Only _I_ am allowed to _fuck anyone_ in _my_ bed!" His voice was high, tinny, and his cheeks were redder than the anger he must have been feeling. "I swear to God, you two are _dead_ if I find come on my sheets-"

"Calum!" Michael cut in, mainly because Luke was _completely_ locking up and panicking. "Calm down, we're sorry. Neither of us messed up your sheets ... too much ... and it won't happen again."

Calum glowered at them. "Go to your room."

Michael grimaced. "What the fuck?"

" _Your room,_ Michael, go _now,_ and do whatever the _fuck_ you want, fuck him, suck him, _stab him into a coma,_ but just get _out_ of my sight before I _murder you both."_

Ashton shrugged, finally free of his laughing fit but a smile still clung to his lips. "It's a pretty fair deal, Mike."

Michael groaned at his friends, wrapping an arm around Luke's waist. The boy was mortified, even went as far as pulling his hood over his face because of how ashamed he was. Michael frowned, he didn't _like_ that, not one bit, so he pulled him up and push past Calum and Ashton with a glare.

"Oh, don't _give_ me that, Michael. You know I'm _happy_ you figured out your huge gay crush, but _God,_ don't _fuck_ on my bed!" Calum squeaked angrily, and that's how Michael knew that Calum really was happy for him.

So, to get him back, Michael lied, loudly and obnoxiously, "Hey, Calum, I fucked him from behind, and that can get _real messy_ when _he_ finishes, so you better watch out before going anywhere near your bed."

And with that, he hauled both his and Luke's ass into his room, not missing the stunned look on Calum's face as he slammed the door shut and locked it, even pushing his desk chair under the knob for good measure as Luke laughed and sat down on the bed, cheeks still pink and eyes still gleaming with whatever post-makeout endorphins were swimming around in his head. He smiled as Michael winked at him, and then they heard Calum's rebuttal, a string of words Michael felt his mother would be ashamed of, hell, _felt_ the shame himself, all linked together in one yell and Michael couldn't help but _laugh._

 _"That's so fucking disgusting! Ashton, he can't get away with that, they can't just_ fuck _in my bed, please, make them fuck off."_ Ashton's reply was low, even more muffled than Calum's voice. Then, Calum screamed again, _"I'll get you two back, I fucking swear!"_

Michael glanced at Luke, who actually looked _worried_ now. 

"If he tries anything," Michael offers, closing the two feet of distance between them to cup the blonde's face, bringing his eyes up. Luke wrapped his arms around Michael's waist (sitting down, that was about as high as he could reach) and gazed into Michael's eyes, not daring to say a word. "I _will_ fuck you in his bed. Deal?"

Luke laughed then, a pretty sound, loud and _very happy,_ as he lowered his hands just a bit and squeezed Michael's ass cheekily. "Deal. But, how about we get to work on fucking in _this_ bed first?"

Michael gasped, "Luke Robert Hemmings, you absolute _flirt."_

Luke winked. "Only for you. Because I love you."

Michael's heart swelled then, because he just couldn't believe he'd gotten so _lucky._ He got _Luke,_ and that was the _best endgame_ there was. So he rubbed his thumb across Luke's cheekbone softly, bringing the flirt banter to a minimum as he whispered. "I love you."

Luke smiled, craning up and standing to kiss Michael softly. "I love you more."

Michael took the bait, and stood to the challenge, but only responded with tackling Luke into the sheets, kissing all over his face and making Luke giggle in the _sweetest_ way possible, because he apparently hadn't expected Michael to be _romantic._ Which was stupid, because Michael would be _anything_ for Luke, knowing he had the same in return.

Which was the _best,_ really.

 

* * *

 

"I can't believe we _fucked_ in his bed."

"He's the one who thought putting a spider in the tub was funny. He's just lucky we're not going for round two."

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it, and please tell me what you thought in the comments!!


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